What I Do:

words...

...music

...retreats

...workshops

mourning doves, a cardinal, three blue jaysgreet the day with songsan old man with headphones and a lawnmowerbellers a country song out of tunebirds flock on the baseball field by the high schoolthe grass freshly cut and over-seededsparrows stuff themselves into the holesof the chain-link fence feathers fluffed against the chillof September scolding as I pass but not movingfarther along in a garage a whistling manbent over with his head under the hoodof an orange hot rod straightens nods bends againblack walnuts drop from overhead branchesbouncing in their green outer shells a squirrel keeps a keen watch chatteringabout the coming winterhow it might be colder harderthe sun streams through maples warms mein my sweater that was too thin at the startbut has become suffocatingI buy books at a yard saleten cents each she says but I give her a dollarfor the four I want if she'll put them in a bagfor the last mile that passes by the parkwhere the ancient sycamore glows whiteand gray on my morning walkAMR (C) 2017